Sacramento! Part one: Transit.
So, due to the fantastic weirdness that is my list of official 'day off work' holidays, I got last Monday (March 31st) off. Finding myself with a sudden three-day weekend, I did what made the most sense at the time: I agreed to take the train up to Sacramento to spend the weekend visiting with friends I hadn't seen in the better part of forever. Because that's just how we roll around here.
Issue the first: dealing with the train. Now, I am, in some ways, the 'seasoned traveler' of my family. I can handle airlines and bus lines and ferryboats and horse-drawn wagons of all shapes and sizes just fine, and with a minimal amount of fussiness. Unfortunately, I have little to no experience with American train systems, and this triggered every single neurotic impulse in my little blonde body as I went searching for the way to do such arcane things as 'buy a ticket' and 'reach the station'. All hail the Amtrak website for allowing me to purchase tickets online. And all hail my mother, for being willing to pick me up and get me to the station before it was time for my train to go. Teamwork!
(Amusing digression the first: my mother and I wound up getting into a vigorous discussion of the results of America's Best Dance Crew, and she shares my belief that Kaba Modern should totally have mopped the floor with Status Quo. I'm not sure what worries me more -- the fact that I'm cheerfully willing to admit to having watched this show, or the fact that my mother also watched it, avidly enough to argue it. My family, kinda weird.)
Once at the station, we milled around until they opened the train doors, at which point I hugged my mother and darted onto the train, securing a seat at what was effectively a McDonald's booth on a train. Bench seats, large industrial cafeteria table, the whole nine yards, enhanced by the addition of overhead bins and -- wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles -- a built-in power supply. Yes. The train allowed me to plug in my laptop. Sheer bliss, especially given that I was in the middle of the Rosemary and Rue rewrite at the time, and had been afraid I'd be spending the whole trip twitching helplessly. Displaying the single-minded focus that enables me to occasionally get things done in a timely fashion, I hunkered down to write.
Two stops before Sacramento, an older woman came over and asked if I was getting off. I responded in the negative, and, when she looked disappointed, offered to let her join me. She said that no, she was looking for a table to share with her daughter and granddaughters. Not being evil, I promptly volunteered to move. I swear she asked me fifteen times if I was sure, which was very endearing. Also, her granddaughters turned out to be wicked cute, and had a lot of art supplies with them. My good deeds are small but vital ones, and we reached Sacramento about fifteen minutes later.
Issue the second: finding my ride. I had never been to the Sacramento station before, and had no idea where Michelle would be waiting for me. Luckily for me (or so I thought at the time), she called as I was heading for the doors, and said to go right when I left the station, because she'd be right there in the waiting zone. To the right. At the Sacramento station.
Do you know what's to the right at the Sacramento station? Parking lot. Train tracks. A freeway. Note the absence of a waiting zone. I was very bemused by this, and started walking back the other way, vaguely concerned that I had gotten off at the wrong station. Michelle was just pulling up. I eyed her. "Right?"
"Sorry," she said. "I forgot to put my wedding ring back on this morning."
I love my friends. Sacramento adventure, ho!
Issue the first: dealing with the train. Now, I am, in some ways, the 'seasoned traveler' of my family. I can handle airlines and bus lines and ferryboats and horse-drawn wagons of all shapes and sizes just fine, and with a minimal amount of fussiness. Unfortunately, I have little to no experience with American train systems, and this triggered every single neurotic impulse in my little blonde body as I went searching for the way to do such arcane things as 'buy a ticket' and 'reach the station'. All hail the Amtrak website for allowing me to purchase tickets online. And all hail my mother, for being willing to pick me up and get me to the station before it was time for my train to go. Teamwork!
(Amusing digression the first: my mother and I wound up getting into a vigorous discussion of the results of America's Best Dance Crew, and she shares my belief that Kaba Modern should totally have mopped the floor with Status Quo. I'm not sure what worries me more -- the fact that I'm cheerfully willing to admit to having watched this show, or the fact that my mother also watched it, avidly enough to argue it. My family, kinda weird.)
Once at the station, we milled around until they opened the train doors, at which point I hugged my mother and darted onto the train, securing a seat at what was effectively a McDonald's booth on a train. Bench seats, large industrial cafeteria table, the whole nine yards, enhanced by the addition of overhead bins and -- wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles -- a built-in power supply. Yes. The train allowed me to plug in my laptop. Sheer bliss, especially given that I was in the middle of the Rosemary and Rue rewrite at the time, and had been afraid I'd be spending the whole trip twitching helplessly. Displaying the single-minded focus that enables me to occasionally get things done in a timely fashion, I hunkered down to write.
Two stops before Sacramento, an older woman came over and asked if I was getting off. I responded in the negative, and, when she looked disappointed, offered to let her join me. She said that no, she was looking for a table to share with her daughter and granddaughters. Not being evil, I promptly volunteered to move. I swear she asked me fifteen times if I was sure, which was very endearing. Also, her granddaughters turned out to be wicked cute, and had a lot of art supplies with them. My good deeds are small but vital ones, and we reached Sacramento about fifteen minutes later.
Issue the second: finding my ride. I had never been to the Sacramento station before, and had no idea where Michelle would be waiting for me. Luckily for me (or so I thought at the time), she called as I was heading for the doors, and said to go right when I left the station, because she'd be right there in the waiting zone. To the right. At the Sacramento station.
Do you know what's to the right at the Sacramento station? Parking lot. Train tracks. A freeway. Note the absence of a waiting zone. I was very bemused by this, and started walking back the other way, vaguely concerned that I had gotten off at the wrong station. Michelle was just pulling up. I eyed her. "Right?"
"Sorry," she said. "I forgot to put my wedding ring back on this morning."
I love my friends. Sacramento adventure, ho!